


Plums

by Bill_Longbow



Series: Kinktober [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, mentions of torture, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: Bucky slowly pieces himself together after escaping Hydra, and manages to built some sort of life for himself, however temporary he knows it is. The unexpected taste of plums opens a whole new cache of memories.





	Plums

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyUkkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyUkkey/gifts).

> Thank you to [Antchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/) for betaing. They are an amazing writer themselves, so go check out their work!
> 
> Written for this prompt by LadyUkkey: Bucky on the run in hiding, got his plums FINALLY and he got these lovely plums and what does he do with them? Squishes them in his fist and jerks off using the soft plums to remind him of what steeb felt like......
> 
> I'm sorry! It turned out a lot sadder than I intended to...
> 
> This is a fill for Kinktober day 20: masturbation, and for the Stucky bingo: Brooklyn

True or not true? Memory or imagination? It’s a game he’s constantly playing now that the fog is slowly lifting off his mind and there’s no one to tell him what to think anymore.  _ (Sometimes he longs to be back; to that moment when the cold stops hurting and his brain slowly comes to a halt.) _

His mind is unreliable. A liar. Sadistic. It will spew forth an endless litany of horrors committed by him, to him.  _ (The difference is inconsequential.) _ Dead faces, mangled bodies, screaming, blood, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. He writes it all down. Neatly sorted in a system only he gets. The little flashes of colour that separate the pages of his notebooks an unexpected delight.

It's when his mind conjures images of beauty that he questions his sanity. He knows they tried to do more than wipe him of himself, tried to instil images and sentiments to fill the void. 

True or not true?

When he dreams of golden hair and a jutted out chin for the first time, he wakes up crying. 

He doesn't dare write it down, sure it's a trap, and lists the names of the targets he remembers instead. 

The images keep coming, keep confusing him. 

A lopsided grin, chafed knees, an indignant frown: These deserve their own notebook, a clean one, without pages marred by blood. 

( _ He _ deserves the pain and the scars, not this vision of honey gold.)

(He doesn't know why the notebook has to be cornflower blue, but if feels better when he finds just the right shade.)

_ Bucky _

Bucky gets a place in this notebook as well. He doesn't know who the honey coloured boy is yet, but whatever belongs to him gets a place in the blue notebook, and this Bucky undeniably belongs to him. 

_ "Bucky," _ said with amusement, in annoyance, in fear. It almost sounds like a prayer each time and he would go through the same hell again to get a shot at being Bucky. 

  
  
  


He switches houses and cities and countries like coats. They trained their asset well, and he knows how to disappear. If only he could disappear from himself as well. 

He's not just an asset, he knows this now. He's a he. He might've been a Bucky once, but who he's now remains to be seen. 

  
  
  


_ Stevie _

The blond boy with the sky blue eyes turned into a man Bucky would hug in public and kiss when they were alone. Still small in stature, but with a heart much too big for his chest. Bucky hugged him when he was cold and led him in a dance around a tiny apartment, slender fingers wrapped in his. 

Waking up from dreams like this hurt more than from the others, the darker ones. Waking up from those was a relief, but the lingering memory of chapped lips against his was almost too much to bear. 

True or not true?

  
  
He finds a place he might call home, for a little while at least. He calls himself James and finds an apartment in a flat. He helps his neighbor carry her groceries and receives dumplings in return. He makes do.

They're hunting him again. Not just his former tormentors, but others. A dark skinned man who takes to the skies sometimes. A hulking blond pretending to be Stevie. They’re not skilled at it. They leave a trail so obvious he knows he’s safe where he is for now. Safe enough to allow himself some comfort. His own mattress. A coffee maker. More than one plate. Finding out which brand of oats he likes, which vegetables, which fruit. He likes going to the market, he likes to barter. He doesn’t like the supermarket or shopping street. He loves the library. 

He loves remembering Stevie. He’s pretty sure it’s real now. Almost. He loves the memories of just the two of them best. His blue notebook fills itself with shreds of happiness and when the night terrors get really bad it helps to clutch it to his chest, the knowledge that there have been better times the only thing to pull him through.

_ Stevie _

His neighbor bakes him plum dumplings to thank him for fixing a bookshelf. She tells him in a heavy dialect he can barely follow it’s a family recipe. A treat she used to make when her husband was alive and they still had friends and family to share it with. 

He thanks her politely and on an impulse gives her a hug because she looks as lonely as he feels. It’s a thing Bucky might’ve done. She’s small and smells funny, but the hug is the best thing he has… has  _ felt _ ever since escaping. If he lingers too long, she doesn’t say anything. She only pats his back when he leaves and tells him to come over soon again.

The hug makes him feel off kilter in a way he hasn’t encountered yet. He feels vulnerable, shaky. At the same time he needs more. 

(Touch is bad. Touch is  _ pain _ .)

(No. Stevie touched him. Touch is good.)

Maybe it's because of this mindset that the taste of plums hits him so hard when he bites into the dumpling. The taste explodes on his tongue and transports him back to Brooklyn seventy years ago. He doesn't remember how they came by them, but they found themselves with a basket full of plums, the skins a blue so dark it was almost black. He remembers being hungry, he remembers giving his share to Stevie more often than not. This many plums was heaven sent. 

_ Stevie grinned at him, his eyes sparkling in delight, as he picked one from the basket and bit through the skin. Red juice exploded from the bite and ran down his chin, and Stevie slurped obscenely to suck up as much of it as he could.  _

_ When he threw away the pit Bucky stepped forward to lick away the juice from Stevie's chin, making him giggle and Bucky smiled against his skin. It was when Bucky took Stevie's hand and sucked his thumb clean the mood changed and grew charged.  _

He moans, palming his crotch without meaning to and startles to find his dick hard after being limp for decades. 

He reaches for the memory, but it's gone again. He scrambles for the image of red juice against fair skin, but it's lost in the fog of his unreliable mind and he whines. He needs more. 

He takes a look at the clock. There's still time. He hurries to the market almost carelessly, almost giddy with anticipation. 

Before long he's back in his apartment and sits at his small dining table, one plum between his fingers. (His human ones. The others aren't meant for beauty.) The plum is almost as blue and juicy as the ones in his memory, and he watches its skin condense. 

The first bite has him moaning, as it elicits the same memory, but a little later. He can clearly remember burying himself deep within his lover with that exact same taste still on his lips. 

_ Stevie moaned Bucky’s name with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. _

He fumbles with the buttons of his pants to pull his dick free, and hisses when the cold metal touches the warm flesh. He quickly switches to his other hand, uncaring that it’s still wet with plum juice.

_ He slowly pushed deeper inside, but Stevie being Stevie, wrapped his legs around Bucky’s hips to force him in faster. He smiled and leaned forward on his arms, boxing Stevie’s head in. “Hey,” he whispered and rubbed his nose against Stevie’s until his lover opened his eyes at him. “Hey, yourself.” _

He jerks himself with mechanical movements, not used to touch himself for pleasure. It feels… he's not sure how it feels. There's a pressure like a dam about to break after a flood tide. He doesn't know if he wants this, but he's too far gone to stop now, and part of the thrill is letting go. 

_ "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky," Stevie moans, hot breath in his ear as they move together, creeping inevitability closer to release.  _

The juice on his hand dries up and the sticky roughness that remains hurts. He remembers you spit on your hand to do this, but he halts his hand on its way to his mouth when he spots the other plums. Without overthinking it he takes two and crushes them in his hand, shivering at the sensation of the juice running liberally over the skin of his wrist. He quickly wraps the hand with juice, plum flesh and all around his dick and sighs, jerking his hips up in the soft wetness.

_ "Stevie, Imma…" Stevie wraps his arms around Bucky's shoulders as tight as he can as Bucky shudders and spills himself deep inside, his face hidden in the crook of Stevie's neck." _

"Stevie," he chokes and crashes over the edge, mixing his seed with the mess of plums on his hand and pants and shirt. 

A bone deep exhaustion takes the place of the tension he's been carrying around ever since he left that man on the shores of the Potomac and he slumps forward, leaning his forehead against the metal of his left fist on the table. 

A sob escapes him. 

And another. 

He's been holding himself together for so long now (weakness is punished), but the kindness of one lady and the taste of seventy years ago bring him down, and soon he's crying so hard he's shaking with it.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So. Let's pretend this isn't really the MCU and there won't be a SWAT team storming his building in a few weeks, shall we? Let's pretend this makes James realize he doesn't want to do this on his own and starts paying more careful attention to those who are trying to find him. And maybe that large blond man does something like swipe his bangs to the side that is so quintessentially Stevie that James has to reevaluate. And maybe he allows himself to be caught and recovers further and discovers Steve Rogers is still the love of his life and they live happily ever after?
> 
> Come say hi on[Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com) or join us on the 16+ [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!


End file.
